


When the Floodwater Comes It Ain't Gonna be Clear

by lowermiddlechild



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Homophobia, M/M, Reunion, sometimes life is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7699324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowermiddlechild/pseuds/lowermiddlechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five taps on his window. Their pattern as familiar as his father’s laugh despite the fact that Kenma hasn’t heard it in nearly a year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Floodwater Comes It Ain't Gonna be Clear

**Author's Note:**

> heavily inspired by the song "Twin Size Mattress" by the front bottoms. give it a listen
> 
> this is a long overdue gift for my favorite dutch person. sorry it took me 7 months to write your kuroken linda

Five taps on his window. Their pattern as familiar as his father’s laugh despite the fact that he hasn’t heard it in nearly a year. 

Kenma considers ignoring it. It’d be so easy for him to just roll over in bed, his back to the window, and try his best to fall back asleep. He could put in some headphones to block out the world outside his personal bubble, open up his 3DS if he needed something to focus his eyes on. It could be so easy to pretend he didn’t hear a thing. 

Kenma gets out of bed anyway. 

He tiptoes over to his window quietly, careful to avoid the loose floorboard next to his bed, and taking a steadying breath, Kenma unlocks the window. He places his hands under the latch and does his best to push the window up. A blast of cold air floods into his room and he shivers, suddenly wishing he’d grabbed a sweatshirt. Instead he stands right in front of the window in only a thin t-shirt and boxers, goose bumps breaking out on his legs as he continues to heave at the window. It always got stuck a quarter of the way up. 

From outside a second set of hands start to shove at the window, helping Kenma get it most of the way open. As soon as it’s up Kenma steps back trying to keep his eyes on the window as he gropes behind him for the sweatshirt he’d thrown on his dresser yesterday. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s not shivering entirely from the cold. 

In his mind Kenma knows that in the grand scheme of things a year is not a large span of time. A year isn’t enough time for him to grow a tree or write a novel or find the cure for cancer but this past year has felt like it’s been longer than the rest of his life combined. The kind of year that changed everyone and everything. 

A grunt shook him out of his thoughts and Kenma looked up just in time to see a leg appear in his bedroom from the open window, carefully stretching until its toes touched the floor. A back soon followed the leg and finally a head, so different from the last time Kenma had seen it. 

Kuroo heaved the rest of his body though the window while Kenma watched, unable to move or think beyond empty superficial thoughts. 

_His hair’s gone; they must have shaved it in basic training. He’s bigger too, muscular in a way that he’s never been before. He even stands straighter, more like a lion than the cat we used to joke about._

It’s no big surprise that he’s changed. Kenma knew that the military would take his wiry broken down frame and turn it into something they could use. He can still remember the night they sent him away and without his consent, Kenma can feel tears well up in his eyes at the thought of that night. 

In a second Kuroo is there, wiping the tears away from his cheeks, hands rough and callused from physical work rather than bass strings like Kenma remembered, but the feeling is still the same and he can’t help but lean into his hand. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” Kuroo whispered softly. 

Kenma opened his eyes, felt himself come back from the edge, and stepped away from Kuroo, eyes downcast. 

“I missed you so much,” Kuroo tried again. 

Kenma didn’t reply. 

“Kenma, say something. Please, anything.” 

The tremor in Kuroo’s voice held Kenma’s mind and ate away at his resolve and before he could think too hard, he whispered, “Why’d you come here?” 

Kuroo looked taken aback, mouth forming a perfect little ‘o’ as he thought through the question. Kenma stood, biting his lip, trying not to back away. He needed an answer. 

“I- um,” Kuroo stuttered out, clearly confused. Kenma could hear the undertone of hurt in his voice and he tried to force himself to stay quiet but in the end he couldn’t help it. 

“Why would you even want to see me? It’s my fault that you… it’s my fault you had to…” Kenma said softly, eyes on the floor. He knew what he wanted the answer to be, knew exactly what he was hoping against all odds that the answer would be, but he knew that he had no right to want that from Kuroo. After all, he was the reason Kuroo had been sent away in the first place. 

The military hadn’t been solely Kuroo’s choice; his parents had felt it would help their son “learn to be a man.” Kenma felt himself flinch at the memory of the night he’d felt so down that he’d snuck over to Kuroo’s house, broken in through his window just like Kuroo had tonight. It hadn’t even been a conscious thought when Kenma had launched himself into Kuroo’s arms, lips on his lips, searching for some kind of emotion to override the pit in the middle of his stomach dragging him down. The bedroom door opening had caught them both by surprise and Kenma could still vividly remember the look on Kuroo’s dad’s face, features so similar to his son’s though contorted into an expression Kenma had never seen on Kuroo’s face. 

There’d been so much yelling that night. Kenma could only cower behind Kuroo as he did his best to stand toe to toe to his father. The only thought repeating itself in his brain was a constant desire to leave, to curl up in his bedroom at home, quiet and dark; when Kuroo’s father had shouted at him to get out Kenma had literally ran out of the room. He’d passed Kuroo’s mom on his way down the stairs, a woman he’d considered a second mother, and the fear plain on her face had only spurred him on faster. Tears were flowing down his cheeks and his breath was beginning to come out in rough gasps but he didn’t stop moving until he was safe in his bed, covers pulled over his head as he let himself cry. 

The next day Kuroo had called him to let him know that he left for basic training for the air force in three days. Kenma had listened to him explain that his parents thought it was for the best and why he’d chosen the air force in silence. It wasn’t until he couldn’t stand it anymore that he let himself speak. 

“Kuroo…,” he’d said and pulled in a shuddering breath, “don’t go. Please don’t go. I can’t- I won’t… I need you here. I just… Stay please stay.” There’d been silence on the other end of the line for a minute and Kenma could feel himself getting his hopes up with every passing second. 

“Kenma, I can’t. I love you but I can’t. I’m suffocating here.” Kuroo’s voice had sounded so strained and Kenma had hung up as soon as he’d finished speaking. The next morning Kuroo was gone and Kenma hadn’t been able to stop replaying Kuroo’s words for nearly half a year after he’d left. 

Seeing him here now had Kenma on the verge of an actual shut down. He could feel his heart clenching in his chest and the panic rising in his throat. He didn't’ even register that Kuroo had crossed the room and wrapped his arms around him, Kuroo’s scent surrounding him and trying to bring him back to the past while the cold wind whipping around his legs kept him anchored in the present. 

“Why would you even ask that? Of course I’d come here, of course I’d want to see you. Nothing was your fault, Kenma.” Kuroo was saying as he held him, voice full of all of the quiet fire and fierceness Kenma had always associated with Kuroo. 

It felt like Kenma was the one coming home rather than the other way around. His arms came up to cling to Kuroo’s sweatshirt and hold him close, as the tears that had been threatening his eyes finally spilled onto his cheeks. 

Kuroo only held him tight and softly said, “I’m sorry I left, Kenma.” 

Kenma could only shake his head in response, tightening his grip on Kuroo. They stood in the middle of Kenma’s bedroom, holding each other while Kenma tried his best to calm himself down. 

“I meant it when I said I love you,” Kuroo murmured against his hair after a moment and it was then that Kenma stepped back from him, finally loosening his grip. He looked up at Kuroo’s face, searching for a moment, before he stood up on his toes to place a gentle kiss against his mouth. 

“I love you too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> comments, kudos, anything, is appreciated!


End file.
